


How Rare and Beautiful it is To Even Exist

by TARDISTraveller42



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fear of Death, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Platonic Relationships, birthday angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29326272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TARDISTraveller42/pseuds/TARDISTraveller42
Summary: Just after Kes' second birthday, she feels a rather strange sense of angst and dread. Needing some advice and help, she goes to the Doctor for a much-needed conversation about life, death, and friendship.
Relationships: The Doctor (Star Trek) & Kes (Star Trek)
Comments: 1





	How Rare and Beautiful it is To Even Exist

**Author's Note:**

> brief mentions of mortality, some serious talk before all the fluff.

How Rare and Beautiful it is To Even Exist

Kes stepped into Sickbay with her arms wrapped around herself. It was a subconscious thing; she wasn’t cold, exactly. Although...as she looked around the empty room, it did appear rather ominous. Half of the lights were off. The Doctor wasn’t by any of the Biobeds or in his office; probably offline for the night. 

So she was all alone in here. Usually that was perfectly fine. She enjoyed her own company immensely, especially when she had Sickbay and all of its medical texts at her disposal. She could normally spend hours: perusing databases, studying the Doctor’s ongoing experiments, reading about physiology and surgery. But tonight was one of those rare nights when she simply didn’t want to be alone.

One of those nights she wondered why anyone would ever want to be alone.

“Computer,” she said, wincing as her voice carried shakily through the sterile air. “Active the Emergency Medical Hologram.”

“Please state the nature of...Kes?” The Doctor turned to her sharply, eyes darting up and down her form. He must have noticed something, because his next words were said with the tone he reserved for patients and a few steps toward her. “Are you feeling well?”

“What?” she asked dumbly, blinking out of whatever daze she’d slipped into for the umpteenth time that night. “Oh, no; I’m alright.”

He raised an unconvinced eyebrow, but didn’t approach further.

“Lights to 75%,” he said.

Kes blinked as more details of the room came into focus. The Tricorders sitting neatly on the cart by the office window, the dials beside the screen on the central monitor, the sheets tucked neatly into the Biobeds. Normally these things made her feel so calm (a strange phenomenon, according to most of the crew, but she’d never noticed the contradiction). But tonight…

She still felt so ridiculously uneasy. Her heart didn’t beat like it normally did; it was faster, surely. And her breathing, too. It was like someone had turned up her sympathetic nervous system without any reason.

“What brings you to Sickbay at this hour?” asked the Doctor.

Kes shrugged, turning his head to avoid his close gaze. She fiddled with one of the medical instruments on the nearest table, shifting it back into its perpendicular place beside the other tools. 

“I was having a difficult time falling asleep.” 

“I can get you something for that.” The Doctor took a few steps toward her. “Melatonin, a mild sedative-”

“That’s alright,” she said with a smile and a shake of the head. “I think I just needed to walk around a bit. My quarters get a little lonely sometimes.”

She grimaced, turning fully away from him. She hadn’t meant to use the word ‘lonely’. Words like ‘lonely’ made people worried; they made it sound like you were sad or needy. 

The Doctor was quiet for a long moment. He didn’t even move. Kes felt his eyes on the back of her head, but she would not turn around. No. She couldn’t face him. She couldn’t look into his eyes and see pity and...and-

“Kes? Is everything alright?”

His voice was kinder than usual. He’d been getting better at that: being nice, rather than biting; gentle, rather than sarcastic. But even still it took a lot for him to sound _that_ kind. He usually reserved it for people who were very ill, very scared, very close to death.

Oh, that was a bad word to think of. That was the word she’d refused to let herself think of all day, because it was so endlessly terrifying. Kes tried to shut it out; tried to push it down and forget it and think about literally anything but _that word_. But it was too late now; she’d done it. And now her brain was going haywire. 

Now her eyes were filling with ridiculous tears. 

Now her throat was swelling until it felt like she’d swallowed a frog (Tom had showed her a picture of that animal, and it was a very sweet animal. But even the image of that couldn’t stop this onslaught of thoughts and worries and nerves and-).

“I…” she stammered, turning slowly toward the Doctor. The image of him was blurred slightly behind tears, but she took a breath and held back her emotions long enough that he materialized into a detailed image again. “I’m fine. Really. I should get back to my quarters.”

She made it about three steps toward the door when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was steady, but gentle. The light pressure on her shoulder made her stop. But she refused, again, to turn around. 

She refused to face him.

“You don’t have to tell me any details if you don’t want to,” said the Doctor. “But I can’t overlook the fact that you’re clearly in some form of distress. Please, let me replicate you something to drink or eat.” 

Kes’ eyes flickered up to meet the Doctor’s. He seemed like he needed to help her as much as she did, truly, need his help. She considered his offer, then nodded her assent. 

The Doctor returned her nod and disappeared to the replicator by the wall beside them. 

“Mr. Kim informed me of a recipe for a bedtime drink that supposedly ‘knocks you right out’. I can’t verify his statement myself, but I _have_ used it to get a stubborn Starfleet officer to sleep on more than one occasion.”

He flashed a quick smile her way, which made her chest feel just a little lighter. Made her breathe just a little easier.

“It sounds wonderful,” she said, forcing her voice over that frog still lodged in her throat.

“Computer. One mug of Harry Kim’s ‘Warm Milk’.”

“Warm milk?” Kes asked, as she took the mug from the Doctor. “That’s all?”

He shrugged.

“Apparently Mrs. Kim adds a secret combination of honey, vanilla, sugar, and nutmeg. I can only hope there isn’t _too_ much sugar added.”

Kes took a sip. It warmed her mouth, then her throat, right down into her chest. It was like being heated from the inside out. And honestly, it tasted delicious.

“Why do so many people keep recipes secret? If I made something that tasted this good, I’d want everyone to try it for themselves.”

The Doctor tilted his head. “I would imagine it comes down to keeping something safe. If it’s only you who knows something, it can’t be ruined. By telling others, you open the door to tampering, editing, manipulating.”

Taking another sip, Kes raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think anyone’s going to be manipulating anyone with a warm glass of milk.”

A strange look entered the Doctor’s eye; something deep and meaningful that she couldn’t quite name.

“I wasn’t only talking about the warm milk,” he said.

Kes continued to drink her milk, if only to give herself time to think about his words. A few sips later, she lowered the glass and stared at him closely.

“You sound very wise sometimes. Do you know that?”

“My program has been running for a full year now,” he said with a bounce and a smile; proud of the achievement of making it this far without any serious malfunctions. “You must be twice as wise as I am.”

Kes lowered her head. Ah; another topic that she was trying to avoid: her birthday. 

She’d become two years old yesterday. And my, what a day it had been. A surprise party that turned into a ship-wide crisis; huddling on the Holodeck with her friends and no hope of escaping the phenomenon passing through their ship; fearing that they were about to die, before she’d even had a chance to see Neelix again.

Kes blinked and found her vision distorted once again by tears. The Doctor was still watching her, so she dipped her head lower, hiding behind the glass in her hand as she took a quick sip. 

Two years old. Two years out of her expected nine. That was 22.222% of her life gone already, and she still had so much to do. So many people to meet and grow closer to. So many things she wanted to experience. And she would, but...if two years could pass that quickly, how soon would she be three? Or four? And how did she even know she’d _get_ nine years? What if...what if something happened? Oh God, she couldn’t so that to her friends; especially not Neelix, Tuvok, the Doctor...she couldn’t promise them only nine years and then give them even fewer. That was cruel. 

“Kes?!” The Doctor was holding her by the shoulders, his wide eyes staring directly into her own. Deep concern lined his face; more worry than she’d ever noticed in him before.

She was already causing him distress; already worrying him more than he deserved. She realized in this moment that she was breathing rapidly, nearly to the point of hyperventilating. Not enough air was getting into her one remaining lung; not enough not enough not enough-

“Kes, breathe slowly and deeply. Purse your lips and breathe deeply.” 

Kes tried to follow his instructions. And, on some level, it did work. More air got into her lung. Sickbay grew clearer in her eyes. But still her chest ached. Still she felt the weight of the world, of multiple worlds, resting on her tiny shoulders.

“I’m alright,” she said, more to ground herself than to inform the Doctor. “I-I’m okay.”

He frowned, his eyes darting back and forth across her face. When he’d decided that she wasn’t about to faint or start hyperventilating again, he hurried to the other side of the room and grabbed a Tricorder. As he unlatched it and began running a scan, he gestured for her to sit on the nearest Biobed.

“Blood pressure returning to normal,” he catalogued, raising and lowering the scanner to monitor her body and head. “Heart rate is high, but within normal parameters.”

“Doctor,” Kes set a hand on his arm, lowering it until the Tricorder released a faltering beep. “I’m alright. It’s nothing physical.”

He clapped the Tricorder shut, keeping an eye on her as he strolled over to the closest console to set it down. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

She shook her head. Then she bit her lip and nodded. More tears entered her eyes; silly, embarrassing tears that she didn’t have a right to shed. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot about yesterday,” she said. She stared at her folded hands on her lap; her crossed legs kicking the air. 

“It was a very frightening experience,” the Doctor said. “For myself included.”

“No, I mean…” she sighed, licking chapped lips. “It’s not that, exactly. It’s...my birthday.”

“Your birthday?”

She looked down again. She probably sounded ridiculous, or selfish. What kind of a person is sad on their birthday? They were meant to be celebratory times. And everyone had been so kind and generous; she’d received gifts and favors all day. 

But she pushed these self-critical thoughts down as best as she could. They weren’t helping, and they were preventing her from being completely honest.

“I realized yesterday how old I’m getting.”

The Doctor did his best, but he couldn’t hide the smile that came to his face. Kes was expecting it; it’s how everyone reacted when she said such things. But it irritated her nonetheless. She was glad when he hid his amusement behind his most forced ‘professional’ expression.

“And...I suppose I’m also starting to realize how long the trip back to the Alpha Quadrant really is. I can’t even imagine 75 years. That would be at least seven generations for an Ocampan.”

The Doctor’s carefully hidden smile turned into a poorly hidden frown. Kes felt a stab of guilt hit her chest. This was exactly why she hadn’t talked to anyone about this. It would only make them sad and angry and-

“These are all very normal things to think about on one’s birthday,” the Doctor said suddenly, sitting on the Biobed opposite to her. 

“They are?”

“Yes!” he smiled softly, leaning forward to bridge the distance between them. “In a lot of cultures, birthdays are used to measure yourself in some way. Some use a physical test. Others have distinct prayers and rituals. Even in human cultures, birthday celebrations rarely live up to what they’re meant to be, if only because the person being celebrated is usually in the middle of a personal crisis of some sort.”

“Really?” Kes’ eyes lit up. 

“I don’t mean to break doctor-patient confidentiality,” he said quietly, glancing at the door as if a crewman were going to walk in just at this wrong moment, “but I can tell you that multiple people have paid a visit to Sickbay on their birthday complaining of psychological distress, indigestion, midlife crisis - you name it.”

Kes felt sorry for the crewmen, but incredibly relieved at the same time. So she wasn’t alone in this. That already lifted a little bit of the weight off of her shoulders. Not all of it, but enough to allow her to sit up straighter.

The Doctor tilted his head with a frown.

“I was hoping you’d been spared that kind of worry. But I suppose it must affect nearly every species in some way.”

Kes shook her head, turning to the floor.

“I’ve never heard of it affecting an Ocampa before. My people typically have an optimistic view of both life and death. We know from the moment we’re born that our lives are short, so we try to live to the fullest as best as we can.” She frowned sharply. “And usually I can, but for the past couple days...I don’t know. It’s like a feeling that I can’t shake; my thoughts are all stuck on this and I can’t seem to get past it.”

The Doctor didn’t seem nearly as concerned as Kes was. He shrugged with a slight smile.

“You _did_ go through a life-or-death situation on your birthday. I’d say that’s most humans’ biggest nightmare.”

Kes folded her arms across her chest.

“It feels like it goes deeper than that, though. I’m suddenly _aware_ of how fragile my life is. And…” her voice softened until it dropped out completely. “I’m afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Yes.” She sniffed, and found herself on the verge of crying again. This time, it felt like a flood. This time, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop it. “I...I don’t want this to end. I want to be able to stay with you all forever. I...I want to see Voyager reach Earth. I want to do so many things, and watch everyone get older. But…” she sniffed again, and then breathed in a sharp, almost painful breath. 

Suddenly, the Doctor’s hands were on her shoulders again. He touched her lightly, just enough to make contact without pushing her too far. She could have batted his hands away if she wanted to. But she didn’t. She didn’t want him to leave, because then she’d be alone and that’s not what she wanted. That’s not what she ever wanted.

“Kes,” he said quietly, settling onto the Biobed beside her. “Have you talked to Neelix about any of this?”

She shook her head rapidly, folding in on herself as she sobbed. 

“I can’t. He’d feel guilty and sad; and I can’t do that to him.” Kes swallowed and raised her head. “I did speak to Tuvok today, and he was very helpful, but...I needed something less meditative.”

“I understand. Everything.”

“You do?”

The Doctor nodded, brushing his hand up and down her upper arm. He still kept a respectful distance, giving her the space to move away if she so desired. But his expression was nothing but kind.

“When my program was malfunctioning last month, I believed, for a time, that I really was Zimmerman. That I had HTDS. That was…” he sighed, releasing a shaky breath. “That was the first time I experienced the fear of death.” He shook his head, turning more directly toward Kes. “No one knows how much time they have. Not even I do. Every time I deactivate my program, it could be the last time. If my program were damaged while I was inactive, I’d never even know.”

He shook his head out again, clearly trying to keep his own terror from surfacing. He set a hand on Kes’ shoulder to ground them both.

“We all have these fears. They’re healthy; they keep us safe. They remind us how precious life is. They’re powerful. But, Kes,” he looked into her eyes, making sure she was listening, “You are not fragile. And you’re not going anywhere as long as I can help it.”

Kes looked down, away from those dark eyes. Away from one of her best friends, making promises that he couldn’t keep.

“But Doctor,” she said with a shake of the head, “what if you can’t help it?”

The Doctor’s lips tilted into a forced smile, even as his eyes shined with rare, carefully hidden tears.

“That is _not_ your responsibility,” he said sternly. “Do you hear me? You are not responsible for anyone on this ship except yourself.”

“But you’re my friends. I don’t want to hurt you.”

The Doctor shook his head.

“I don’t want to hurt you either. But if my program was damaged in some way outside of my control, would you feel that I personally hurt you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why would it be any different for you?” he asked.

Kes stared at him for a moment, then turned away again. 

“Because I _know_ how limited my time is. For something that horrible to happen to one of you, it would have to be an accident or an attack or…”

“Kes,” the Doctor took her hand into his own. “Every one of your friends has _chosen_ to take the risk that you’ll break their heart. That’s what friendship is. But we became your friend anyway, because we wanted to. Of course we’d love to have you for as long as possible. We’d love all of our friends to stay healthy and nearby for the rest of our lives. But if we can’t have that, then...it’s still worth it, in the end.”

Kes’ eyes danced across his face. She felt so tired; sleepy and otherwise.

“You really believe that, don’t you?”

He nodded.

“Yes. I do.”

Feeling the weight of their conversation, of this night, of her fears and all that they portended...Kes let her eyes drip shut. She reached out and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug as she rose up onto the Biobed. He was warm to the touch, all those photons buzzing around, and she rested her head against his shoulder as if laying against a heated pillow.

His hand settled on her back, holding her up on the Biobed even in her precarious position. 

And that was the moment she really let herself cry. Forget the dry sobs she’d released earlier; the tears that had blinked in and out of her eyes. This was real crying. She made sounds like a baby that just couldn’t stop its tears. She sniffled and practically drooled all over his uniform shirt; for once she was grateful he was a hologram and could easily program a new one. Her chest heaved as she cried and gasped for air and tried not to try to stop herself.

All the while, the Doctor was everything she needed him to be. He held her, murmuring gentle shushing noises as she weeped. He cradled her head against his shoulder, rocking her back and forth as she quieted and then started again. 

It was almost like having a parent again. Kes felt safe in his embrace; like the entire world couldn’t get to her. Not even that death that she was so terrified of. Sickbay was safe and calm and, in a strange way, it was the part of Voyager that most felt like her home. 

With that idea, Kes let herself smile. The discomfort was easing in her chest; slowly but surely subsiding. She was running out of tears to cry, sniffling into the Doctor’s wrinkled uniform as she cried herself into exhaustion.

In time, she found herself incredibly tired. The world shifted and turned in a whirl of colors. One moment she was trying to look into the office across the room, studying the shape of a human body on the wall and trying to name the various organs she could identify. The next moment, she was looking at the ceiling. A pillow was beneath her head, and a blanket was slowly covering her from foot to shoulder. 

The Doctor was standing beside her bed, taking notes in a PADD.

“Doctor?” Kes asked, finding her voice rough and craggy.

“Yes?”

She smiled, snuggling under the blanket he’d provided; the comfiest one in all of Sickbay. 

“Thank you. For everything.”

He set a hand on her shoulder.

“Anytime.”

He started toward his office, but she sat up so quickly it caught his attention.

“And Doctor,” she said. 

“Yes?” he repeated.

Kes smiled in her usual distant way.

“I’m glad that I chose you to be my friend.”

He lowered the PADD in his hand and stared at her for a long moment.

“And I’m honored to be yours.” 

They shared a smile just before the Doctor glanced at the time written on the nearest monitor screen. He met her eyes again with a grimace.

“You’d better get to sleep. Another long day tomorrow.”

Kes tilted her head, retaining that deep, bright smile.

“I can’t wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!! i love these two's relationship and i don't see enough fic with either of them. i hope you enjoyed!!


End file.
